A/N: So this is post-Endgame and FFH, but in that land of denial where everybody lives. And for every chapter of this that I write, I have to go write one in my book, so I can't promise regular or speedy updates, but I'll do my best!

2027

The Stark-Potts living room was, naturally, massive, and only the most advanced entertainment technology sat within it, but the color palette and family photos and memorabilia neatly scattered around made it cozy. Peter sprawled on his stomach on the room's fluffy carpet, eyes glued to their massive TV, playing Mario Kart with the vibranium-infused controller Shuri had made him (he kept breaking the normal ones in his exuberance).

Beside him, eight-year-old Morgan laid on her stomach too, her homework spread on the floor in front of her. She had her long ginger hair tucked behind her ears, and she absently chewed her lip. Beneath the sounds of a red shell hitting his character, he heard her pencil stop moving across the paper, and he shot a glance at her.

An hour in, and half the pages in front of her were still untouched. Pepper insisted that she go to school with her peers, but she had inherited Tony's genius – her homework never took more than half an hour, which was why Peter had let her put off doing it until after dinner. But here she was, staring blankly at fractions when Peter knew she could breeze through pages of calculus like it was nothing.

He paused his game. "What's up, kiddo?"

She shook her head, blinking to refocus. "Nothing."

Peter rolled onto his back and wiggled over to look up at her. "Come on, M&M," he wheedled. "Talk to me."

A smile broke across her face. "You're so weird, Petri."

"So I've been told."

He flipped over and sat up. "Come on, kid, what's wrong?"

Morgan sighed and sat up. "I just miss my parents," she sighed. "They're not usually gone this much."

"I know," Peter murmured. "But your mom's trying to close a really important deal, and your dad wanted to back her up. They'll be home in a few days."

"But it's already been three weeks," she said miserably.

She sniffled, and Peter reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder. He babysat her whenever he could, and never once had she gotten near to crying before. After she had learned to talk, anyway. She was used to Pepper traveling all the time, but Tony usually stayed behind with his daughter when they didn't take her along. This really was her first extended period without both parents, and Peter knew from his college days that calling, even two or three times a day, just wasn't the same.

"Tell you what," he said, beginning to push her papers into a pile. "If you can put a smile back on your adorable little face, I'll tell you a story."

She perked up. "About Daddy?"

"Yup."

She beamed. "Ok!"

He scooped her up with ease, carrying her to the couch, sitting down with her on his lap. "What do you want to hear? I can tell you about this one time he came swooping in-"

"Nah," she interrupted. "I want to hear a story about Daddy saving the day, not Iron Man."

"You know they're one and the same, right?"

"Not to me."

Peter smiled – of course she'd think that way. He had all but retired when she was born, only putting on the suit for special appearances and extreme emergencies, both of which were few and far between. The world may know Tony as Iron Man, but Morgan only knew him as Daddy.

"I've got just the one."

-MCU-

2019

Peter ducked the gloved fist Mr. Stark threw at him. It brushed his hair, tracing a path through his curls. "No spidey sense, Peter," Mr. Stark reminded him.

Careful to restrain his strength even more than usual, Peter hit back. He came up for an uppercut, fist flying for Mr. Stark's chin. When he turned on his heel to avoid it, Peter took advantage of his unbalanced stance and slugged him in the side, making him stagger. "It's basically enhanced anxiety, Mr. Stark, I always ignore it."

He managed to recover on his own just before slumping against the boxing ring's ropes. "That's fair," he said, sizing Peter up. "You're improving."

Peter beamed. "Really?"

In the moment of joy, he relaxed, his stance softening and his hands starting to lower. He realized almost immediately, but it was too late. Mr. Stark surged forward, delivering a solid blow to his stomach, making him double over. He grabbed Peter's shoulder and spun him around, wrapping an arm around his throat.

"Yeah," he said. "But you've still got a ways to go. Cause if I had a knife or the desire to break your neck, you'd be dead now."

Peter furrowed his brows. "Uh, that kinda makes it sounds like you wanna stab me. You don't, do you?"

Mr. Stark chuckled, releasing him. "Not at the moment. Go on, get a drink."

Peter ducked out of the ring, heading for the chairs where MJ and Ned sat. He dropped his gloves and picked up the water bottle he'd left beside them, taking a long drink of the refreshingly cool liquid. "Oh, that's good stuff."

MJ didn't look up from the textbook propped between them, hardly pausing in answering their math questions. "You invited us here to watch you win, Peter."

"I didn't think he'd ban me from using my powers," Peter muttered, dropping down beside her. He tried to nestle his chin on her shoulder, but she waved him off.

"You're sweaty."

Peter stuck out his bottom lip in a mock-pout. "But MJ," he whined.

She didn't look up, but she did smile.

Ned wasn't paying attention to their version of PDA, instead looking across the room at where Mr. Stark and Mr. Rhodey were talking. "Maybe he banned you from using your powers because you brought us to watch you win."

Peter cast a glance at the two heroes, narrowing his eyes. "You may have a point."

"Of course that's why," MJ said simply. "He's trying to keep you from getting an ego. It doesn't suit you. Besides, if you can fight without your powers, then you'll be prepared for anything. He's trying to keep you safe."

"Come on, it's not like I'll ever lose them. I can't. They're as much a part of me as breathing is."

Finally, MJ looked up, aiming a stern look at him. "And you've stopped doing that before."

Ned winced and Peter dropped his gaze, remembering those last moments on Titan, the way MJ had swept him into a hug when he finally returned to Earth. "Right," he mumbled.

This time, when he rested his chin on her shoulder, she didn't push him away. She even leaned into the contact a little.

A few minutes later, Mr. Stark came over. "Ready for another round, kid?"

He was about to nod when Mr. Vision came in. It had taken the combined efforts of many scientists, including Shuri and Mr. Stark, but they had managed to resurrect him without the Mind Stone, leaving a jagged scar where Thanos had ripped it from his head. "We may have a mission," he called.

Peter rose, everyone turning to the android. "What mission?" Mr. Stark asked.

He held up the tablet he'd brought, pulling up the Avengers tip line, selecting a message, and handing it over. "We received intelligence of a possible active Hydra facility in Florida. It appears credible enough to be worth investigating – they even reference the Cradle prototype that was stolen three months ago."

Peter peered over Mr. Stark's shoulder. "There are still Hydra bases? Didn't Cap expose them like five years ago?"

"It was four years, nine months-"

"Ah, we don't need the specifics, Vis," Mr. Stark interrupted quickly. "But thank you."

Mr. Vision stopped with a blink. "But he asked."

"It was rhetorical."

"Ah."

Mr. Stark handed the tablet to Mr. Rhodey. "Yup, tip seems credible, but everyone else is off doing other stuff. Just me and Vision up against potentially a whole Hydra facility?"

Peter's hand shot into the air. "I can go!"

Mr. Stark started shaking his head. "You need-"

"Come on, Tones," Mr. Rhodey said. "Let the kid go. This place isn't far from tourist central – if it does exist, it'll be small. They won't want to fight Avengers. The three of you can handle it, easy."

Peter and Mr. Stark both stared, surprised by the unexpected support.

"What?" Mr. Rhodey said. "I can be the cool uncle figure."

Ned laughed.

Mr. Stark considered for a moment. "All right, on one condition: Ask Aunt May. She'd skin me alive for taking you on an impromptu mission on a school night without being consulted."

Peter deflated a bit. She had learned to be supportive of his alter ego, but mostly in terms of the "friendly neighborhood" part. She still stressed over every bruise and cut she saw, and while he sometimes appreciated the attentive fussing and appreciated that she had learned to bite back the lectures, he knew she spent her days awaiting that phone call. Again. The odds of her letting him go were slim.

(He'd also just remembered it was indeed a school night. Tuesday, to be exact. Not Friday like he'd been thinking for hours. School had closed early that day, he wasn't used to early outs in the middle of the week.)

"Ok," was all he said, reaching for his phone and heading for the hall.

"Hi, honey," she answered. "What's up?"

"Uh, well, something came up," he said, pacing up the wall to hang from the ceiling. "Someone sent in a tip about a secret Hydra base, and I wanted to go with Mr. Stark and Mr. Vision to check it out."

"A Hydra base? Peter, that sounds-"

"It might not even exist," Peter elaborated quickly. "And if it does, it's close to civilization, so it'll be small and help wouldn't be far. Plus, I'd be with two of the strongest Avengers. I'll be fine, May."

She hesitated, pausing for so long Peter checked to see if the call had dropped. But finally, she asked, "Where is it?"

"Florida. We can be there and back in time for bed."

"…Ok. But text me when you get there, text me when you leave, and text me when you're back at the compound. Promise?"

Peter grinned. "I promise, May. Thank you!"

"Stay safe, sweetheart."

"I will. Bye!"

He hung up, dropping to the ground and running back to the others, waving his phone around. "She said yes!"

Mr. Stark looked surprised. "Did she real-" His phone buzzed from an incoming text, and he glanced at it. "I guess she did. All right then, kid: Suit up."

Peter bounced eagerly in place, then paused. "Wait, about Ned and MJ?"

"I'll get them home," Mr. Rhodey offered. "Want some ice cream on the way?"

"Yes!" Ned exclaimed.

Assured that everyone was taken care of, Peter started to bound off, but MJ caught his hand. He turned, and she leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't die, Peter."

Peter smiled, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "See you soon, MJ."

Then he turned and ran for the locker room.

-MCU-

"What do you think we'll be facing?" Peter asked, leaning against the pilot's seat to peer outside. "Aliens? Superpowers? Advanced tech?"

Mr. Stark handled the controls with ease, searching for a place to land the quinjet. "No idea," he said. "Probably not aliens, though. Vision, you getting anything?"

Mr. Vision looked down at the device he held, a tool Peter and Tony had designed a couple months ago based on Star Trek tricorders. "Nothing," he reported. "The warehouse appears to be lined with a material that is blocking my scans."

Advanced tech, Peter decided silently.

"Damn," Mr. Stark said. He'd found a clearing behind a hill and was guiding the quinjet into it. "We'll need your hearing at the door then, Peter."

He bounced a little, still thrilled at the prospect of being needed on a mission by Iron Man.

The quinjet landed with a gentle bump, and Mr. Stark double-tapped his arc reactor to activate the nanites. Peter watched in awe as they spread out to envelope him, helmet closing in last and eye slits flashing to life. Then he slipped on his mask and followed the two adults outside, absently responding to Karen's cheerful greeting.

They reached the top of the hill, looking forward to the warehouse. Mr. Rhodey's guess had been right – as far as warehouses went, it was small. Small and grey and rusting in spots, with the parking lot out front made of cracked pavement and devoid of cars. Peter tilted his head, confused. "This doesn't look like a good evil lair."

"No," Mr. Stark agreed slowly, "it doesn't. Stick close, Spidey."

He nodded, staying in between and just behind the other two as they advanced on the building. He kept a wary eye out for any, but he saw no guards of any sort, not even a single agent sneaking out for a cigarette. Do they care about that? They wanna kill everybody, I don't see why they'd bother going outside for a smoke.

The only thing he noticed, really, was his spidey sense pinging off the walls.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he murmured. "My spidey senses are tingling."

"I thought you ignored your spidey sense?"

"Not when it's this strong."

Mr. Stark nodded. "Can you hear anything?" he asked as they reached a side door.

Peter pressed his ear to the gap between the door and the wall. He expected the clanging of heavy machinery, the whisper of evil conversations, or even just the hum of computers. But there was nothing. "No."

Mr. Stark waved him back, and Mr. Vision took his place. He took hold of the door handle while Mr. Stark fired up his repulsors. "Three… two… one!"

Mr. Vision pulled the door open and Mr. Stark dove inside, sweeping the room in one fluid motion. Peter entered after him, hands up and ready to fire his webs.

There was no need.

The warehouse was one massive, entirely empty room.

Peter stopped short but, remembering the practice fight, kept his webs ready. "What the hell?"

"Must be abandoned," Mr. Stark said.

Something tugged at Peter. For a split second, he thought he saw some sort of movement against the far wall. "Wait. And stop making noise."

Both of them froze instantly, and Peter focused. In the absence of footsteps and moving metal, Peter heard what he hadn't heard outside: Humming technology, from the direction of the far wall. And beneath it, soft breaths and beating hearts. He took a step forward, examining it intently.

There. A flicker. As if they were looking at a… "Karen? Is that what I think it is?"

"I am already scanning," she said. "And it is indeed a-"

A warning flared on Peter's HUD, followed by a ripple of energy rolling through the room. "Peter!"

It passed through Peter without hurting him, but with a spark, Karen fell silent, his HUD dying with her. Mr. Vision stuttered in place, and Mr. Stark's suit stopped glowing.

Simultaneously, the holographic wall shut off. Revealing three rows of heavily armed, black-clad agents, and a single woman in a lab coat. She smiled. "Hello."

Beside her was a machine, a cylinder that reached up to her hip, and it sported the only light left in the building. Peter put the pieces together with a gasp.

That was an EMP. This was an ambush.

She pressed a button atop the machine, and it flared red for a second. This time, Mr. Vision fell to his knees, and Mr. Stark's nanites rippled, some falling to the ground, leaving cracks in his armor. Both men were rooted in place, unable to move. And the pulses kept coming, the machine flaring red with each one, Mr. Vision falling further and Mr. Stark's suit withdrawing more and more with each one.

"Spider-Man," Mr. Stark said through gritted teeth, "run."

Peter wanted to hesitate, to say he wouldn't leave them behind, but he had learned long ago that this wasn't the movies. There was no pulling off a miracle rescue – even with his strength, he couldn't pull both men to safety before they all got shot. And he'd promised May he'd stay safe.

So he turned to run.

The scientist signaled to the agent next to her. He brought his gun to bear, and in the fleeting moment he saw it, Peter realized it didn't look like one of the usual assault rifles he was used to seeing in the movies. A moment later, he realized why.

The agent fired once.

The tip of a dart sank into the back of Peter's neck.

He managed to stumble forward a few more steps before the tranquilizer dragged him down.

The last thing he felt was rough hands grabbing his arms and hauling him away.

The last thing he thought was I forgot to text May.